Hermione's Solution
by Areli-Kokuchi
Summary: Post-OotP. Hermione's noticed odd things about Harry's emotional state, and implored him to start research into PTSD, and then child abuse. But she doesn't seem to want to accept that Harry's experiences were necessary; he doesn't want her help. CanonComp


Harry knew Hermione worried about him; he'd seen the momentary creases between her eyebrows sometimes when he mentioned the Dursleys. He'd seen the flickers of something – anger? – when Ron had laughed or agreed when Harry expressed his dislike of his family. She probably had Dumbledoor's view of love in a family. It wasn't a big thing, but Harry resented their refusal to believe family could not help but involve love, affection.

And this was Hermione, so her solution was predictable. The Library.

Not the school library, but she recommended his local library and told him how to get there from the park near Privet Drive. She'd sent a letter, which had been remarkably convoluted for her, talking about family and emotional trauma and PTSD from the ministry and her horror of lack of any mental health awareness in the magical world. She told him how to get a library card.

Harry walked to the library the next day, holding the muggle-posted envelope Hermione's letter had arrived in, as that was part of the process. He stayed at the library for an hour, with a library card with his name and username on it. It occurred to him that this may be his only muggle ID. Perhaps there had once been a passport, but Harry hadn't had a picture taken for one in his memory, so he didn't have one now.

He found a book with PTSD in the title, and read the introduction. It didn't seem like he was in the category of the writer; the writer talked about drink, drugs, sex. Harry's life was pretty normal except for the yearly battles with death. The writer was a soldier though, and mentioned volunteering for 'suicide missions' and his anger. Harry supposed he could see how Hermione may have identified this sort of thing with Harry, but the book hadn't said how much of this was PTSD, and how much the author's own make up. Maybe half of this was just being a soldier. Anyway, Hermione was getting ahead of herself if she thought Harry participating in the battles was a symptom. This guy had _volunteered_, Harry had no choice. There was _no-one else_. Harry's mouth pulled together as he thought about it. There _was_ no-one else. That's why Harry had had to stay with the Dursleys, the blood wards were a weapon that protected a larger weapon: Harry.

Harry tried to continue into the book, but soon into the first chapter the author started talking about the "unconscious mind" and "psychological slavery" and Harry found another book.

He scanned through the first pages, which were just blocks of text and uninteresting, especially since he was feeling increasingly wary of Hermione's diagnosis.

There was a symptom checklist, Harry mentally circled 'YES' for recurring nightmares, unable to stop thinking about "the traumatic event", feeling the need to be on constant alert for danger and avoidance of things that reminded him of "the traumatic event". The book told him only two symptoms of the list were cause for getting a psychological evaluation and Harry felt a surge of annoyance at Hermione and the writer. How could they diagnose based on just that? Were there no people who understood that sometimes "constant vigilance" was necessary, not a sign of being crazy? Surely trying to forget pain would lead to less pain? And nightmares were just the things that scare you, and Harry had just seen more scary things!

But even as he thought this, a small part of his brain pointed out that he was the only one in his dorm who'd ever woken up screaming and Ron, if no-one else, by now had enough scary experiences to do the same, if it really were normal.

Harry ignored this voice. It was just the part of him that felt sorry for himself, and tried to encourage self-pity. The part that had taken him to Dumbledoor in his first year and begged to be taken from the Dursleys. And Harry couldn't afford that sort of self-pity, he couldn't afford it when he was eleven and he certainly couldn't afford it now, not when it was becoming clearer and clearer that he would have to continue fighting Voldemort. There was no time for driving himself into an emotional mess by "working things out" when he needed to be strong. There was no time to wallow in Sirius' death when he could, with far more ease, just hide the broken mirror at the bottom of his trunk under last years books which he carried back and forth "for reference" and to ensure the Dursleys didn't burn them. He didn't have to think about all this, it would just make him upset.

In fact, it was making him upset now! Harry pressed his lips firmly together to lessen their shivering and turned his focus to a point behind his eyes to clamp down on the tears that were about to brew, a technique he'd learnt in year five when his new teacher had found no sympathy for little boys whose eyes still welled up when they were teased. In fact, thinking about Mr Brenner – and Miss Sharp, year four, who'd let Harry hide in the old staff room at break – was making him even more upset! Harry slid the book back onto the shelf. In his current mood he would've shoved it, if not for having spent the last five years with Hermione and consequently acquiring some respect for the written word.

He stood outside the entrance to the library. There was a drinking fountain to the side, and Harry leant over and slurped the water from his hand, surreptitiously running his wet hand over his warm face as well as his mouth. He wiped his face on his t-shirt, and set of at a jog to get back to the Dursleys.


End file.
